The Lute of Choas
by Amara the Warrior
Summary: What was wrong with living in the moment and forgetting the worst of everything? Semi AU


It was a typical day at the office. Nothing interesting was happening. Everyone was at Balamb Garden. Selphie was in charge of the garden festival this year and she was…well…going overboard as usual. I couldn't blame her; she truly loved what she did. Partying and smiling was in her blood. I doubted she would ever give it up.

I admired her positive attitude and strong spirit. Sometimes I wish I had that same positive and strong spirit.

I had Fibromyalgia; and it was hard for me to deal with. It was even worse to realize the reason I had Fibromyalgia. I had an autoimmune disease called Lupus. The disease occurred when the body accidently made antibodies that attacked healthy tissue in the body.

The antibodies were supposed to show up in the blood tests. However, mine did not. The doctors thought I was crazy…and didn't treat me until I ran into their office, crying.

It was a hard life for me. But I was ready to fight back and get my place in the world. I was a strong woman and I wasn't going to give up.

I sat down in the office. I was so bored. There wasn't much to do in the cramped workplace. All I wanted to do was work up to management position. I didn't know if such a thing was possible. The office was all screwed up.

We were stationed in Balamb. It was an island off the coast of Gaia. That was the world I lived in: Gaia. It was world full of magic and mysteries. I never really knew what the word "normal" meant because I grew up with so many strange creatures and people.

My name was Quistis Trepe. I used to be a professor at the Garden in Balamb…before I was fired for having inadequate people skills. I wasn't socially awkward, I was just known for having favorites. I was in love with my student. His name was Squall. Squall was only a year younger than I was. I was 18 and he was 17. He was quiet and shy. He never said much to me or even tried to get to know me.

Surprisingly I was the only person brave enough to be kind to him. But in the end…he turned me down. I thought he was too screwed up to love me. Then I saw him dancing with Rinoa and I knew then that I had lost him forever.

The pain cut deep and I didn't know what to say. But in the end, maybe it was better off that way? I didn't want a man who didn't love me.

I wanted to be free and I wanted to enjoy life. The pain wasn't going to stop me; I was going to be free no matter what.

It was two years after the second sorceress war; I was 20 years old. After the war I didn't want to be a SeeD mercenary anymore. Instead of keeping with the job, I changed my status to "on call" SeeD Mercenary. I decided to spend most of my time working in the office. I suffered a lot of stress during the war and I didn't want to put my body through anymore problems.

The stress wreaked havoc on my body. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep and I couldn't breathe when I was sick. My lungs swelled and filled with fluid. My back and stomach hurt.

I knew something was really wrong, I just didn't know what to do about it. I was afraid that if I said something, no one would believe me. Lupus wasn't a very well-known disease. And Fibromyalgia was seen as a fake illness and just an excuse to be lazy.

I truly did need all the help I could get. I didn't know how I would get through this and how well everything would turn out in the end.

All I knew was that I had to at least try.

What was illness? What did the term being 'sick' mean? Everyone used it so loosely. No one really had a general definition for it. It made me so mad.

I wanted some answers; I wanted to feel better. I was so tired of being sick all the time. I wanted to go back…to go far away, and to hide away from all of this. It was too much for me to deal with.

There was radiating pain from all sides, and it seemed that no matter what I did, the pain followed me. I felt like the pain was a person pet, and that I was walking it on a leash every single place I went.

I wondered…should I have given it a name? Should I have given it a collar so I could remember where it was?

I used to believe in doing that…but now I wasn't so sure. I didn't know what to call it. Fibromyalgia wasn't an illness to me; it was a symptom that was a warning sign of something worse to come.

I didn't get Fibromyalgia first. I actually first had symptoms when I was 12 years old. Two years before that, my Lupus began. I got joint pain, arthritis, organ swelling and the dreaded "malar rash". At the time I thought it was normal to have those things; I thought it was normal to have a rash from sun exposure.

I truly had no idea that I was so sick!

If I had known, I would have quickly gone to the doctor and gotten checked out. I was responsible and strong and I wasn't going to give up.

* * *

My blonde hair was getting in my eyes. I quickly brushed it away. I was a natural blonde, a rare aspect of women nowadays. For some reason, every woman I knew wanted to have blonde hair. Even if they already had blonde hair, they had to dye brighter than everybody else. I couldn't understand why. What was wrong with being you? I loved who I was and wouldn't have changed if for anything. Some people were really messed up!

I had straight hair, and deep blue eyes. Every morning I got up and straightened my hair. It wasn't curly but I always wanted to look professional. It was very important to me. I wanted people to obey and respect me. If they couldn't, I didn't know what I would do.

I lived in an apartment downtown. I worked on call as a SeeD mercenary and in an office building in downtown Balamb. Balamb was a small, coastal town. There wasn't a lot to do there but the people were always friendly. I think that was what I loved the most…the people.

Whenever I was down I looked for other people to be my guide. Sometimes we all just needed some help. I didn't mind asking for it sometimes.

There wasn't anything wrong with being strong. Actually I firmly believe it set me apart from everyone else.

My favorite color was Blue. It was a calm, peaceful and introspective color. Sometimes I really enjoyed my time alone. I liked to think, reflect and discover more things about myself. The human mind and body was an infinite mystery. It seemed like every day I found out something new that I never knew before.

If I could, I would paint my life blue. However, that was just impossible. There was no paint for life. All I could do was think about the color blue to dull my pain.

I pulled a note out of my drawer that I had forgotten about. It was a note from Selphie. Selphie and I were best friends. After the war, we really bonded. It was strange, considering we were both complete opposites.

Sometimes I thought that was the reason why I liked her so much…because of our differences. I was also close to Zell too. He too was an opposite of me. I didn't know why, but I loved hanging around me. He was always so helpful and kind. When a person was in need, those were the kind of friends that were needed around.

Friends who ditched me and couldn't care less about my health didn't mean a thing to me.

It was time to find real friends.

My favorite food was chili. I didn't know why, but I loved that kind of food. In fact, after work I was thinking about going to make some for dinner. Selphie had written me a note, wondering if I wanted to meet her for drinks later. I honestly didn't know what I wanted to do tonight. I missed partying, but at the same time, I didn't want to overdo myself and get even sicker.

That was the problem with Fibromyalgia….too much exercise and action made the pain worse. It was a muscle thing…the muscles were unable to handle the stress and pressure.

I didn't know what caused it, and I didn't know how to make it go away. All I knew was that I had to live with it somehow. I think that was the worst part, because I didn't know exactly what it was.

I was afraid of death. I was afraid of my time being cut off before I was able to do anything of value. I didn't want to die too early, but I didn't want to pass on too late.

I didn't know what awaited me after death…I was scared, and worried about how HE would see me. Some people well…could see right through my acts.

My one fault was that I was too perfect. I tried to create an image of perfection…and usually I failed. I just couldn't live up to that image.

I didn't want people to pity me. It made me sick that someone even felt sorry for me. I didn't need that. I could do everything on my own. Well…this was what I tried to tell myself. I had to be strong, I wanted to be strong. Sometimes though, I felt like I never made the cut. I wanted to be beautiful, I wanted to be strong, but more than anything I wanted to have a good life.

I didn't know what people meant by "good" anymore.

I lived alone in an apartment with my pet cat Blackie. I loved cats; they were the furry best friends I always wanted. Blackie had a black cat and yellow eyes. He was timid at first but always friendly and sweet-hearted. He was a stray. No one really wanted to take him home. I saw him there. He was staring at me for a while. I walked over to him and he rubbed against me. He never did that in front of anyone else. I knew that he was the perfect cat for me, so I took him home.

I never regretted that decision once.

Blackie was always a part of my family.

I didn't go to church very much. I love my Christian religion. I liked going to church, but there were so many hypocrites that went there and didn't really believe. I felt like I was a part of a cult instead of worshipping Hyne. I loved Hyne, but I didn't want to be with fakers. I wanted the real thing.

My one hobby was work. Well, work and drinking. I loved dancing with Selphie; she was so much fun! She could have danced all night, and I would have let her.

I didn't know why…but dancing, drinking and laughing…it really took my mind off the pain. That's all I wanted. It wasn't all about having fun and getting drunk…it was about forgetting about the illness.

It just wasn't healthy to dwell on a thing like that. There was life beyond it. There were smiles, laughter and people I loved beyond all of that. I knew it was going to be hard to live with an autoimmune disease and to deal with being asked about my "fibro" all the time. I didn't want to talk about my Fibro; I wanted to talk about my Lupus. I wanted to talk about the disease that was slowly attacking my organs and joints. How could people have thought I cared about my Fibro? I cared about my Lupus. I wanted a cure…I wanted a successful life.

I didn't care about the back pain, the headaches the IBS etc. I cared about the organ swelling, joint pain and rash. That's all I cared about. There had to be a way out. There had to be something better than all that.

I wanted to better myself, exercise, relieve stress, etc. But I also wanted a cure for the autoimmune disease that was ravaging my body.

* * *

The phone rang. I picked it up. Selphie's chipper voice was on the other end. "Hey Quistis!" she laughed.

I had to give it to her, Selphie ALWAYS knew how to make me laugh. Not many other people did, sadly. They either said the wrong thing, or just plain irritated me. Selphie gave me my space, and never judged my feelings.

She was a TRUE friend.

Most friends talked about my invisible illnesses or they made me feel less than human. There was only so much I could have dealt with.

A lot of my friends I just stopped talking to. It got annoying, dealing with them. They never knew what to say. They always insulted me, and they gave me too much bulls*** to deal with.

I wanted out; I wanted someone to get me OUT OF THERE! I wanted to get as far away from the weird looks, the whispers, the rumors, and the ill advice I seemed to get from everyone I met.

"If you got out more…"

"If you were more positive…"

"If you just smiled…"

I wanted to slap them and make them see: no one could undo illness. No one could make it all go away. It just wasn't possible.

A disease lived in your body. It survived by feeding off your hopes and dreams. It made you feel dead and helpless. Doctors naively believed they could measure and see the illness inside the bodies of the victims.

_They were wrong!_

I was determined to show them how wrong they were. There was no such thing as a visible disease. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Some diseases could be seen. Like the Ebola virus….it had a 10 percent survival rate. Towards the end, it was evident a person had the disease. It was the black death…and it's effects were horrible on the people it affected.

Sometimes I wished people could see Fibromyalgia. Then they would know how horrible it truly was. It wasn't a walk in the park, and it wasn't easy to deal with either. People thought the disease was a joke. They felt it was just a way to get out of working.

What a bunch of a**holes.

Fibromyalgia was very real. And if they had the disease, if they felt the pain, they would know how REAL it really was.

Radiating waves of pain, horrible migraines, spazzing muscles and the horrible twisting of the intestines.

I remembered it all; and I hated it!

"Quistis?" Selphie's kind voice called on the other end of the phone. "Are you alright?"

I blinked and woke up from my thoughts. It happened to me from time to time. It was like being in a really good dream, then waking up and facing reality. Only this time, I was supposedly conscious.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I was out of it for a few minutes."

She laughed. "Yeah, I could tell! Don't worry, I understand."

"Sometimes I wish you knew what it was like to experience a brain fog," I muttered. "Then I wouldn't feel so alone."

"I know," she agreed. "It must be so hard for you to live with this."

She was right about that. There may have been a lot of people with this disease, but not a lot of them had the same personality traits as me. Therefore, it was hard to relate. I really just wanted to make it through this life again.

"Thanks for understanding," I smiled.

"Hey, that's what friends are for. We are supposed to care about each other. There's no shame in being sick. Everyone gets sick at one point in their life. We have to be there for each other and make it through the bad times so we can live to tell our stories of suffering."

It was the way the world was supposed to be. Sometimes it seemed like it wasn't that way. As time went on, things changed. Friends grew apart. New friends became best friends. And old friends disappeared forever. Life just wasn't fair sometimes. Although I really wanted it to be sometimes; I wanted everyone there with me.

I wanted them to feel my pain and know what it was like.

I wanted everything to be okay.

Why couldn't it be?

Why was it so hard to just be?

Wherever I went, I was followed. I wasn't followed by any beings or anything. I was followed by HIM. Here we never called God…'God'…we called him 'Hyne'. Hyne was the creater of all things. I was his daughter. We were all his children.

I was in trouble. I was always plagued by pain. I could tell HE wanted to help me. HE wanted to take my pain away. I was scared though. I wondered what my life would have been like when all the pain was gone.

What would a life without fibromyalgia be like? Would I have ended up differently if I had not gotten sick?

It was only natural for me to wonder that.

However, it was unhealthy. We were supposed to see a way out of this. We were supposed to focus on things that made us happy, not the disease itself. It was hard though, a real challenge to focus on something else. The disease made me so sick sometimes it was hard to think of anything positive.

We were supposed to find something positive to focus on. I couldn't always do that.

When I was sick I was like a gutted animal; all I wanted to do was SCREAM! What was wrong with screaming? It was a completely normal reaction to something this horrific. Why couldn't people understand that? I wasn't losing my mind; I was trying to cope with all of this.

"Quistis?" she asked again. "Are you okay?"

I rubbed my swollen forehead. I disappeared again. I wondered how long Selphie would take this before getting annoyed. Having a brain fog was annoying at best.

I felt like I was walking around in a fog. I wasn't alive, I wasn't around. For some reason, I was just there. That was what a brain fog was like: it was like being 'there' but not really.

It scared the s*** out of me. I wanted to say something to Selphie about that, but I was afraid of worrying her.

Selphie was a great friend and cared about me so much. I didn't think she deserved to be scared out of her wits! I knew that would have happened if I told her about the brain fog.

Most people didn't disappear. Most people didn't experience what I experienced. I think that was the most terrifying thing….to be different and in pain.

There was a lot of hypocrisy in many places of the world. Sometimes, I felt like some people were just pretending to be good and really were quite evil. People would tell me to calm down and be positive. But then, they would turn into a beast themselves.

A lot of the problems in my world were the projections. People saw me through the broken mirror of their own messed up perceptions.

It was hard to know sometimes if they were correct.

The only thing left to do was try.

If I failed…okay…

If I didn't…I would live on and give hope to others.

* * *

***Change of POV***

Quistis sounded sad on the phone. She usually was happy and full of life. Now she was just a shell of her former self. It was that damn disease; it was taking away her life.

Quistis never said much about it, but I knew what she was thinking. Strangely I was always good at that. Quistis had Fibromyalgia and she was in pain a lot of the time. But she never said much about it, because she didn't want to be a burden.

My name was Selphie Tilmitt. I was Quistis's best friend. We had known each other for much of our lives. We forgot that, due to using Guardian Forces to help us fight. After a while, I remembered Quistis. She was a beautiful friend. I think she was my favorite person.

And I loved her so much, no matter how sick she was.

She started getting sick a few years ago. She had a disease called Fibromyalgia. No one knew very much about it. It was bad for her because she got a lot of hate. People thought she was lazy, and that she didn't care about anything anymore.

None of that was true at all. Quistis was unlucky, that's all. She randomly got Fibromyalgia. No one knew why she got it. She told me she had Lupus too. Lupus was an autoimmune disease. In fact, it was nothing like Fibromyalgia at all. The two weren't even related supposedly. Yet, she got both.

She told me when they first tested her for Lupus that she got negative results. I thought it was weird. The tests for Lupus were accurate I heard. So maybe if they were negative, then she didn't have it?

She told me that I had been lied to. The tests weren't accurate, but the doctors liked to think they were. It was hard to diagnose Lupus. No one test, or any test could diagnose it correctly. The physical symptoms mimicked other conditions…and sometimes the treatments made things worse. The doctors seemed to be afraid to diagnose lupus…they were afraid of treating it because it was such a horrible disease. It was easier for them to tell Quistis she had Fibromyalgia. Lupus was terrifying…

I asked her if she was afraid of dying from Lupus. She told me she wasn't sure. She wasn't going to die, but she was awfully sick. Some days it felt like her ribs were broken.

What a horrible disease!

Apparently, not many people had it, but that couldn't have been right. In fact, I was sure a lot more people had it…

What was my friend going to do? How was she going to fight all of this?

She was so strong and brave, but I felt like she was over her head on this one. I wondered how she was going to deal with all of this in the end. She didn't have enough evidence. Who was going to believe her? She had already been through so much already. I felt like at times, she had truly been through hell and back.

What a brave, strong and beautiful woman!

I was proud to call her my best friend.

"Quistis," I thought. "You are a true leader and warrior!"

* * *

***Original POV***

I smiled as I thought back on my friendship with Selphie. She was one of my only true friends. Sometimes when a person got sick, they lost a lot of friends. In a way, that happened to me. People didn't want to talk about it anymore…they were disturbed by the illness.

Some people thought I didn't have it and that I was making it up for attention. I didn't know where they came up with that idea. I wouldn't have lied about something like this. It would have been unlikely. I didn't have a lot of access to rare and dangerous diseases. I didn't try to get pity. I hated pity; if anyone pitied me, they would have no longer been my friend.

Life wasn't about pity…it was about fighting for what you needed.

I was always going to fight, no matter what. I had a right to treatment and a normal life. For some reason, the rules and regulations of the medical world annoyed me to the grave. I didn't see the reason for it sometimes. I knew they were 'just doing their job'.

Sometimes I felt the system was too messed up.

Something had to be done.

Wasn't anyone going to do anything?

The whole world seemed messed up sometimes. Everyone turned against each other when things got rough. How did this even happen? I felt like I was living in a façade.

I knew there were good people around, just like there were bad people. It was just that…sometimes the bad people masqueraded as good people.

Devils wearing the masks of angels…it was unsettling.

I wanted out. I just didn't know how to go about it.

I wanted the antibodies to stop their onslaught. I wanted the pain in my back to go away. I guess I wanted many things.

I wondered if I was ever going to get them.

It was a frustrating situation, and I was in a bad place. There was hope, it was just the good times were so far away.

And if I reached out my hands, I knew that it would be too far away for me to reach.

All I could do was hope…and pray.

I woke up from a deep sleep. I had to slap myself in the face to remind myself that I was still alive. I felt so numb and sick. My stomach was lurching and I felt cold and sweaty.

I was having bad dreams again. I really wondered why that was. I didn't think I was undergoing any unusual stress.

I found that my dreams were little glimpses into my future. It was strange, but at the same time…amazing. I didn't like to tell people that because I knew that they would think I was crazy or something.

People were very quick to accuse another person of being crazy, but sometimes I felt they were really the crazy ones for pointing the fingers.

Having a mental illness put a person in a horrible situation. Because suddenly there was this frightening label placed upon their head. I had PTSD and I felt like the doctors thought I was dangerous or strange because the PTSD label.

It was a completely different world for me to comprehend.

"Forget it," he grumbled. "I was just wondering if you wanted to go out." After he said that, I hung my head in shame. I felt so bad that I had let him down.

He noticed my displeasure and sighed. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said anything."

'No…it's not your fault…I'm getting my a** kicked by an invisible disease. If I could, I would have gotten cured from it forever. But I don't have that power. I'm just a person…all I can do is try a little harder the next day.'

Then there was the uncomfortable silence. I knew he was mad. I didn't know why at first. I was the one who was sick, not him.

Maybe I said something or did something wrong? Honestly, I had no idea what I did…he was just mad.

I was falling out with a lot of people I knew. They told me they care and they wanted me to come to them with problems I had.

For some reason, I was a hard case. They wanted to fix me so they took an interest in me. I distracted them from themselves. It was the way of the world. I was a sick person who needed saving.

Once upon a time, I used to be that way: a goody two shoes. I wanted to save people too. Well, actually I wanted to save the world. I thought I could…but I was so horribly wrong.

I thought I was doing a good thing, the right thing! But actually, it was the closest to wrong I had ever been.

I didn't like taking orders. I didn't mind giving them but taking them was another story.

There was something about giving smiles to other people that made me feel warm inside. Having that same kindness reciprocated was so different. I always saw my own tears as a sign of weakness. Because of that reason, I only shed my tears with people I trusted.

It was so hypocritical and messed up. It was my world. I needed to make other people smile, but they couldn't make me smile because then I would think they were pitying me. I hated pity.

I didn't always need people to smile myself. I liked to make myself laugh a lot of the time. I wanted to stay positive, so I reminded myself every day of what I was thankful for.

I was strong, independent, and I did what I thought was the right thing to do. I was young and for some reason that spelled out *REBEL* to me.

I was a strange rebel. I was responsible, intelligent and wise. I was also a hard worker and a good friend.

Not much of a rebel based on that description, huh?

Most people wouldn't have called me a rebel if they saw or knew me. In all truthfulness, most people thought I was a goody-two shoes! I didn't break laws, I never really dressed strange. I blended in pretty well.

The only difference was the music I liked and the books I read.

I liked music that was driving and loud. It had to be passionate or I wasn't going to listen to it. Music easily influenced with its gorgeous and charismatic sound. I loved it so much. Some people loved books and movies…I loved music.

Sometimes it seemed like people loved to listen to music more than reading books, or watching movies.

I still liked to read. I would sneak into the training facility to read a few pages of my favorite novel. I liked the thrill of reading in a "dangerous" place. I didn't care about all the monsters that were creeping around. All I wanted was to be myself. I loved who I was and I wasn't going to abandon that person.

I wanted to enjoy life and all the thrill that came with it.

I read a lot of books. Sometimes I liked to read stories about Romance, Adventure, and Mystery etc… I really loved leaving my world for just a minute and immersing myself in a good story.

For me, that was paradise.

After Irvine left I was sitting alone in my room. I wanted to go out and join him, but it was too hard for me to move. I had a devastating weight upon my shoulders.

It refused to move no matter what I did. I was so tired of the tired feeling. All I wanted to do was fall asleep. However, if I did sleep I knew I would regret it the next morning.

Sleeping too much made me numb. I woke up and forgot where I was.

It wasn't something I planned on happening. Sometimes the craziest things just happened, with no outright cause. I didn't mind it but at times the numbness really got to me. It was like I was there, but not really. A crazy world appeared and I was stuck right in the middle of it.

All around me were screams and cries for help. It didn't take long to realize that those horrible screams were coming from me.

A lot of bad things happened when I was a kid. Most of them, I barely remembered. I wasn't ashamed of those memories, just a little confused. If it was so *horrible* why didn't I remember it? Why were the most important details, blotted out?

I was upset and I was discouraged. And I think I knew why.

Sometimes life wasn't very fair. I knew that well. I had seen too many deaths not to understand that grave fact. People died, it was a fact of life. Somehow, it wasn't an easy thing to get used to.

Those young kids, they had their whole lives ahead of them and they died, right in front of me.

We were all given orders; I was just carrying them out. My friends, my poor friends who pulled the trigger…I wondered how they were dealing with that.

Selphie continued to be her perky self. However, she was always that way. She was sweet and hyper. For the most part, we all loved her. She kept a diary throughout the war. All her fears, tears and kindness was poured onto paper.

Every time I read it, I smiled. She was a good person, always. She never seemed sad; she always had a smile upon her face.

Irvine liked that about her. Squall however, found it annoying. However, it was understandable; Squall was a jerk.

I was upset that night when I had tried to talk to him. I was just fired from my job and I was lonely and scared. I went to him for comfort. I was only hoping that he would listen to me and try to help me.

I was wrong…..

I never should have went to look for him after the ball.

I was naive in thinking that he cared about me in a romantic way. Now that I knew, I was NEVER going to make that mistake again.

I wanted love, but not that the price of being unwanted. It was awkward to be in a relationship where the other people didn't want you around or even took the time to look at you!

Some people didn't want to be alone and would have done anything to avoid that horrible fate.

Some people would date or marry a person who didn't care about them, just to have someone to watch over them.

I used to think settling was the only way to be happy.

Now I knew…

I could always have a better life.

It would all be okay.

Eventually…

I just had to have faith.

A lot of people misunderstood me when I tried to speak about my life.

"Drama Queen!"

"Grow Up!"

"Buck Up!"

"There are worse off people out there!"

"Take Vitamins!"

Blah…blah…blay…

It was hard to be sympathetic towards a disease one had no knowledge of!

The best phrase I thought was helpful was "I'm sorry, I hope you feel better."

That way….a person could mean well without looking like an idiot.

Kindness ruled over all. And before that…love.

* * *

Love would save me.

* * *

When I fell asleep everything ceased to be. My memories disappeared and my body lay motionless. Being in a dream was so different from living. I had no control over what was happening. Thoughts and memories flashed by.

"How could you not love me anymore?" a voice whispered.

The voice from my past. I felt bad, but at the same time, I felt free. I didn't want to pretend.

This person made me want to run. That was the truth and I didn't want to hurt anyone by faking sisterly love.

If I saw that person as a friend, I would have stuck around. I was tired of the anger being directed at me.

I decided to fight back and I left the mess.

And in doing so I felt free and enpowered. Whatever happened next was going to be hard to deal with. But I was strong…

I was sick of the negativity and the anger and sought to free myself from it. It was like being in a village controlled by an malevolent empire.

I would have done anything to be more positive, even leaving once close friends because of who they had become.

When I was younger I was told that honesty was the best policy. As long as I told the truth…everything was going to be okay.

If people all told the truth, the world would have been so broken. But people lied…a lot.

Sometimes people even lied to make others feel better.

Was it worth it though? All those lies?

Somehow…I wasn't so sure. I didn't like hurting people, but I knew lying only led to more lies. And I was tired of living a lie.

People tended to be incorrect in their own judgments. We judged because of a need to protect ourselves and "know" other people.

People judged me as negative when I was just being honest. It was scary what was happening to me. I needed to speak up about it, and not stay silent.

Sitting down just wasn't for me.

No matter what… I would always fight.

* * *

I was tired but I forced myself to continue my work. It was dark and spooky outside. Everyone else was sleeping.

The police were patrolling the streets. They were looking for criminals. Thankfully, I wasn't a criminal; I was just looking for a secret. Well, it was an artifact, not a taboo spoken word.

During the day I worked at the office. It was my cover. I didn't want anyone to know my true job. I hid it the best I could, to protect the people I loved from persecution.

Sometimes it was better if people didn't know the true me.

There was an artifact hidden underneath the town of Balamb. For the heck of it, I decided to check it out. My reason…? I guess I was bored.

Yes, I was bored. I wanted to do something exciting, instead of sitting around all day.

Just because I was sick didn't mean I was going to give up on life.

I knew I was going to have to do a bit of digging…once I entered the sewers.

The sewers stunk of rotting meat, and sludge. Now I knew why no one wanted to go treasure hunting down there.

My shadows bounced off the walls. I knew in my heart that I was not alone.

Yet, I didn't really care anymore. All I wanted was the thrill.

The thrill…it kept me alive.

It gave me a reason to fight.


End file.
